Too Busy Being Yours To Fall For Somebody New
by Just Kill Me Alive
Summary: Because in a place as Hellish as this, you need something to cling to. Something to give you hope.


**Title: **Too Busy Being Yours To Fall For Somebody New**  
Summary:** Because in a place as Hellish as this, you need something to cling to. Something to give you hope.**  
Rating: **M.**  
Chapter: **Oneshot.**  
Warning: **Gay sex.**  
Words: **3392**  
Author's Notes: **So this is my first actual lemon. I've read a lot, though, so I hope that shines through and shows that I know what I'm talking about (ish). I don't really know where I got the pairing of Ryou/Marik from, but it seemed interesting so I decided to go for it. The mental institution mentioned is not based off of the real deal, just something I made up for the story. Please do not take it seriously.**  
**

Oneshot

The building was bleak and bland, nothing like what it was advertised as. It was rectangle shaped with small windows and only two pairs of doors leading to the outside world; the entrance and the back door. The grass that surrounded it wasn't bright green, more a horrible pale brown colour, that showed just how dead it actually was. It crunched under foot, not putting up a fight, not seeing the need to. It would never come alive again, it decided to let itself die.

The sky was a horrible grey, filled with clouds and not letting the sun show itself anywhere near the building. Instead, the air would forever be touched by the little sunlight that fought its way through the thick clouds. The building itself had once been white. . . Now, it was covered in stains, most of which couldn't be deciphered as to what had made them. Not that anyone who worked there cared.

The mental institution was horribly built yet no one had been able to escape its walls. Somehow, it would let the cold winds of the night in, freezing the patients while it kept them inside, only allowing to leave should their parents come for them or they get 'better'. So far, only a dozen of people had left in all the years it had been open.

Dull brown eyes stared out of the small window in the room he had been told to wait in. He was sat in a plastic chair in front of a metal table upon which his file was open, a notebook half-filled was strewn across it. They hadn't left the pen the woman had been using in there. They suspected he'd use it to gauge his own eyes out. No, that wouldn't happen. He would gauge _their _eyes out instead. The thought was much more appealing.

The night sky outside the glass looked so inviting that he wished he could stand under it. He could see the stars - they were _winking _at him! But where was the moon? Why wasn't the moon greeting him, wishing him a good night? He stood up slowly, his chair wobbling uncertainly as it was forced backwards, letting out a screeching sound that normally made him wince. He walked over to the window and placed his hands on the bit of wall that stuck out, standing on his tip-toes to peer through at the outside world.

Being this close he could easily hear the wind whistling as it pushed its way through the gaps and into the room, rustling his white hair. He liked it, it reminded him that he was alive. He was trapped in a cage, but he was surviving. Letting out a sigh, he placed his chin on the wall, staring up into the darkness that he longed to touch, to feel, to _see_ with his own eyes, nothing in between. He reached out to tough the glass when the door to the room opened and a gasp was heard.

Sharp footsteps got closer to him, a hand reached out and gripped his shoulder, yanking him away from the window and turning him so he'd face the woman who was currently fuming, glaring daggers at him. Her long nails dug into his shoulder as her other hand raised and was brought down across his cheek with a slap. His head snapped to the side, white locks falling across his face. He felt as if he was living in slow motion.

"Mr. Bakura! I told you not to move from your seat!" the woman shrieked, pushing the boy towards the plastic seat that he had been sitting in before. He stumbled a few steps but regained his balance, and promptly stopped where he stood. It would appear that this angered the woman as she stomped over to the desk, her high-heels clacking loudly against tiled floor. She gathered the papers that held his information, pushing them back into his file. "Take him out of my sight. _Now_!"

Two guards entered the room and walked up to the slightly dazed looking teen standing on the other side of the table. One of them produced a pair of handcuffs which they used on the boy before each of them grabbed an arm and guided him out of the room, as if he didn't know the way. He said nothing as he was pushed, shoved and dragged along corridors, up and down stairs. The building was large, with rooms on every floor. The space inside the outer walls was used to its full potential and, therefore, all the rooms were small and cramped.

They stopped in front of a door that had a small window in the top, enough for the guards or whoever worked in the mental institution to look through and check upon the people inside. One of the guards let go of the white-haired teen's arm, pulling out a bunch of keys and using one to open the door. Then he undid the handcuffs, passed them to his partner and pushed the boy inside, who landed on his knees, head bowed. The door slammed behind him. The only light in the room at that moment came from the small window at the top of the door.

It was quiet for all of ten seconds. He knew, for he counted.

"Ryou?"

The voice was familiar and welcomed but didn't make him raise his head. Thin, pale fingers came to rub at the tender skin of his wrists, sore from wearing the handcuffs almost all day. They were too tight for him and dug into his flesh, causing discomfort. His cheek stung from the slap. He was sure it was bright red.

There was a rustling and then padded footsteps. Feet that he knew well were tanned, for they were hidden in his shadow, came into his vision before they turned into knees clad in the same white shorts that he and the rest of the patients in the mental institution wore.

An elegant hand came also into his sight and took a gentle hold of his chin, tilting his face up. Lavender eyes practically glowed in the yellow light that filtered from the window in the door to their room. He met the concerned gaze with no fear, still not saying a word.

The Egyptian male shifted, Ryou following suit without hesitation, knowing that was what his partner wanted. He felt the light hit his face, the side where he'd been hit, but didn't flinch. Dry fingertips came up to brush against his cheek and judging by the look on the tanned male's face, there is definitively a mark on his face.

"Who did this to you?" The question was asked in a quiet voice but Ryou knew just how much weight it held. He knew that Marik wanted to keep him safe from the threats and the horror that the building was capable of giving. "You already have this disrupting your beautiful skin, we don't need something else." The other hand came up to trace the scar that dropped down from Ryou's right eye, curving with his cheek.

"It's not important," he muttered quietly, stopping his movements and just letting his hands rest in his lap, limp. He leaned almost subconsciously into Marik's touch, his eyelids dropping to half-mast. "Don't worry about it."

The other frowned, wanting to object strongly. Of course, though, he didn't wish to upset his partner. He would obey him, even if it was this once. The white-haired boy could tell that Marik was not happy about letting it pass, so he leaned forward and pressed a sweet and soft kiss to the Egyptian's lips. Hopefully he could distract him enough to forget about the incident.

He pulled away, placing a hand on the teen's chest so he could stay in the position, and stopped a few inches away. Brown and lilac stared at each other, so close that only a few strands of extremely light blond locks of hair cut through their gazes.

"Ryou," the exotic male whispered. Said boy could feel his breath wash over his face, minty from them being forced to brush their teeth at nine pm. He didn't respond, just continued to stare at him. He wasn't sure who moved, but suddenly, when the other next spoke their lips brushed together, just slightly. "Are you sure?"

The Brit nodded and this time he did move, pressing another kiss to those ever inviting lips. Marik kissed back just as sweetly, his hand dropping to place itself on top of the other's, smoothing the skin with his thumb over and over again. His other hand was still cupping the younger's cheek, enjoying the warmth of his skin. It was a sweet moment, one they didn't have very often.

The kisses they shared slowly went from sweet and chaste, to passionate and deep. Ryou shuffled closer, pressing his lips harder against Marik's, wanting to be closer to him than they were. He wanted to feel the warmth of Marik's body pressed up against his, wanted to feel how much he was wanted. He felt Marik's hand close around his own and give it a squeeze as the one that had been cupping his cheek moved to run its fingers through his hair, then gently clasp the back of his neck and pull him closer.

Ryou made a small noise in the back of his throat, opening his mouth so that he could pull Marik's bottom lip in between his teeth, flickering at it with his tongue. The Egyptian answered his noise with one of his own, tilting his head even more without thinking. Ryou let the lip bounce back, pressing a sloppy kiss to his jaw. He moved his lips along the bone, nipping as he went. Marik tilted his head back without even needing to think. Long fingers gripped a pale chin and redirected a mouth back to his own.

Marik took his hand away from Ryou's and slipped the arm around the Brit's waist, pulling him flush against himself as he pulled both of them onto their knees. Their bodies were pressed together, not even a width of a hair apart. They parted to breathe after a few moments, a string of saliva the only thing connecting their mouths together. Lips pressed themselves to pale skin, trailing gently and lovingly down the scar on the right side of the boy's face. The string of saliva broke as soon as their lips got too far away from each other.

Mouth moving down the column that was Ryou's throat, Marik suckled on a patch of skin, hoping to leave a mark. He didn't care that later he would most likely get in trouble for marking Ryou, he _wanted _to mark him, to show everyone that he was _his_. The shaky breath that forced itself out of the boy's mouth was worth the consequences, as well as the fingers that pushed themselves through strands of light blond hair.

Marik kissed Ryou once more, their eyes closed but they didn't need to see each other to know who was there. They could feel each other, already having memorised the bumps of their bodies that gave each other away. Hands came down to cup the European's ass and pull him even closer, if that was possible. He wrapped his arms around his tanned neck, digging his nails into his scalp and slipping his tongue inside a wonderfully warm mouth when the man gasped.

Their tongues touched timidly before they slid against each other, rubbing and playing, flicking and poking, anything they could do with the muscles. The tips and sides grazed teeth and flesh, but they hardly cared, making small noises of appreciation at each other's taste, even with the mintiness of the toothpaste. It felt so nice to just have someone familiar so close, to know that they were safe in those arms for once in their lives.

When they pulled back, their cheeks were flushed. Marik stared at Ryou and couldn't help but think just how pretty the Britain looked in the light. He leaned in, as if to kiss him, but stopped short when their lips were about to touch. He smirked a small smirk as Ryou's mouth opened just shy of an inch when he expected their lips to touch, ready to welcome the tongue back, eyes closing once more. Brown eyes snapped open to stare at him questioningly, jaw closing a little, feeling slightly like an idiot.

"Do you really think I'm that predictable?" Marik whispered, smirk widening when those same brown eyes narrowed. Ryou clucked his tongue and pulled away almost completely, leaving the Egyptian confused on the floor. But when the pale figure rose to his feet and offered a hand to help his companion, the confusion was gone for a smile.

Taking the hand given to him, he pulled himself up then pushed Ryou against the wall. There was a dull thud as a result, but they knew they weren't about to be interrupted. They vaguely heard the call of the guard as the lights in the hall went out and the only light they had now was from the stars and the moon that squeezed their way through the small window in the wall. Marik pulled Ryou's leg up and over his hip, keeping his hand gripping the underside of the paler man's knee, even after his heel came around to gently press them together closer. Pale arms rested on bony shoulders as the white-haired male let his head fall back against the wall, tanned lips ghosting over skin they found on the column of his throat once more.

Pale fingers grabbed his locks and gave three short, sharp pulls, as if they didn't know what to do, confused as to why they were there, but wanting to touch the soft strands all the same. "Marik. . ." he groaned out when he felt teeth sink into his skin.

Two pairs of hips ground against each other, causing a stuttered gasp to be shared by the two males. Although they had no light, if they had, they would have seen just how much they stood out from each other as their skin rubbed together, touched, smoothed and scarred. It was something Ryou longed to see in a mirror; him standing there with Marik behind him, holding him protectively, with his chin resting on his pale shoulder, giving that gaze that made him feel so safe he thought that if WWIII were to happen, he would sleep soundly. Unfortunately, there was no mirror big enough for that to happen.

Shaky breaths were exchanged as they stared at each other's face with glazed over eyes, eyelids at half-mast. Their hips pushed against each other's, the shorts proving a different sort of friction than they'd wanted, but not one that was totally inconvenient. They could feel their arousals as they pressed against each other, wanting to feel everything.

The Egyptian pulled away enough for the both of them to scramble out of their white shirts that were a little on the big side for them, dumping them on the floor. Lips crashed together once more, hard enough that teeth scraped against teeth, though neither of them cared. Marik slipped his hand under Ryou's other knee and pulled it up around his hips, pressing the teen closer, _harder_, against the wall.

Ryou moaned at the pressure it put on his arousal, shifting to try and get comfortable, inevitably grinding their groins together, causing them both to groan. They pulled back for air, chests heaving. Their eyes slowly opened only to see the other's staring right back at them. They didn't need to say a word to voice their intentions; the Brit gripped his companion tighter around his neck and waist, the Egyptian's hands coming down to grip him just under his ass. Marik pulled the boy away from the wall and staggered his way over to their bed. It was difficult to walk when a tongue lapped hotly at his neck.

The bunk beds in the room were hardly considered bunk beds - the top one was never used. Both of them slept on the bottom bunk, wrapped in each other's arms and blankets, whether they had sought comfort in the other the night before or simply needed the warmth. The actions were never questioned and whoever crawled into bed last was welcomed with open arms. Neither of the two occupants in the room could remember who's bunk it had started out as.

They rolled around on the small space, trying to get the other underneath, though both were still careful not to fall on the floor. Marik won, looking down to see a flushed Ryou spread on the sheets below him, legs still wrapped around his waist, white strands that shone silver in the light spread out around his face like a halo. The rise and fall of the boy's chest and the faint pink that tinged his cheeks made him look so delicate. He leaned down, kissing him softly, sweetly, though none of the desire from before was forgotten.

Unfortunately, the only form of lubrication they had was their own saliva, as they were not allowed proper lube. The guards never thought this would happen and therefore failed to think as to why any of the patients would need it. Marik looked down upon his partner - no, his _angel _- with apologetic eyes as the boy bit his knuckles, trying to relax around the intrusion. It was only the tanned male's thin fingers, but he wasn't about to rush Ryou. Instead, he moved his hand slowly, lovingly. He took hold of the pale arousal in front of him to distract his lover from the pain.

Being inside Ryou was a feeling Marik never managed to forget, yet every time - without fail - his breath would hitch and his body would tremble as if it were the first time. He waited patiently, wiping away the tears that threatened to squeeze out of the corners of brown eyes that stared up at him shyly. Giving a reassuring smile, he squeezed a pale thigh and pressed a kiss to the inside of his left knee, which he'd pulled up over his shoulder.

When he leaned down to kiss Ryou, hearing his uneven breaths and his small whimpers fall from swollen lips, the knee on his shoulder would spread his love open even more. Knuckles turned white as skin was pulled taught over knuckles, fingers gripping sheets in an unforgiving hold. Quiet gasps, groans, moans and whimpers filled the air around them, as if they were in their own sound-proof bubble and they were the only ones who could hear each other.

Their skin glistened with sweat, eyes locking before they both leaned towards each other - Ryou pushing himself up onto his elbows, Marik gripping the other's leg as he ducked his head. Their lips only needed to brush against each other for them to feel the sparks run through their shaking bodies.

The moment of climax was one Ryou always loved. He got to watch as the tanned man - normally so secluded, so calm and so quiet - would squeeze his eyes together and his face would scrunch up, digging his nails into soft flesh. A chant of "_Ryou_, _Ryou_, _Ryou_. . ." would fall from his lips until it came too much and he'd choke on that single word, hips jerking forward, out of his control. The white haired teen threw his head back, mouth gaping open in a silent moan, moving to form a name but failing to pronounce it. "_Marik_. . ."

The tissues they hid between the mattress of the top bunk and the wooden slats that kept it up helped them clean themselves up. They would pull their clothes back on and Marik would silently inspect for anyone who had heard what they had done while Ryou would make their bed. Then both of them would crawl under the thin cover, arms wrapped around each other, trying to leech whatever warmth they could from the body next to them. This way, they would always sleep soundly.

Because in a place as Hellish as this, you need something to cling to. Something to give you hope.


End file.
